


The Day the Heat Went Out in Georgia

by ArcticLucie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Slash, Prison setting, Rickyl, Sharing Body Heat, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short little ficlet about Rick, Daryl, snow, and shared body heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day the Heat Went Out in Georgia

**Author's Note:**

> Needed a break from my WIP's and woke up to snow this morning. Just had to write something about it. Enjoy!

Rick couldn't remember the last time it _really_ snowed in Georgia. There would be a few flakes here and there, but to wake up to a blanket of snow on the ground, a good couple of inches in some places, was not a common occurrence. 

Rick was on watch that night, but the only thing he witnessed was the heavens opening up and dusting their little corner of paradise with flurries. He honestly thought that would be it, but it kept coming down until all he could see was a pristine white forest and a snow-covered prison yard as light began to filter through soft grey clouds. 

When Glenn came to relieve him, he went inside to spread the word. "Everyone, outside, now!" he yelled in his 'thangs are goin' down' voice to everyone as they were gathering around the table for breakfast.

They all went scrambling for the door, weapons drawn, only to be assaulted by unassuming snowflakes as Rick stood there, a dark silhouette on a muted snowy canvas, hands on hips, smiling happily to his people as they stared back in awe at the scene before them. 

Daryl thought he looked regal, like a king assessing his vassals, like he was the god who personally gifted them with this tiny glimpse at a beauty that was so fleeting in their dreary world that it almost hurt to look upon knowing it would soon melt away.

He supposed that imagery wasn't too far off because Daryl would gladly drop to his knees in worship, lay down his life for his deity, for his sovereign, the man who had gotten them this far, whom without they would've all perished long ago.

But thoughts could only get you so far. And where had they gotten him? Frozen to the spot—not just from the cold—until a brazen snowball dared to collide with his face. 

Then, it was war. 

Kids, they were. Transported back in time, back before humanity began to decay, before adulthood brought responsibility, before circumstances made them family. And they played, despite their age, or lack of limbs in Hershel's case. Smiling and laughing over snowmen and snow angels and snowball fights. Judith wasn't a fan; a child of Georgia, she was, but Carl reveled in it, and Rick reveled in him. 

They were numb and soaked through when they finally gave it up, filtering back into the relative warmth of their concrete castle one by one. 

Daryl was the last one in; Rick expected as much. Out of all of them, their hunter was the one who deserved to rewrite his childhood, to make a few happy memories with people who cared for him. 

"Hey Daryl, I brought you some more—Jesus! Your lips are blue!" Rick exclaimed as he stepped into Daryl's cell with an arm full of blankets. 

"J-jus' a lil c-cold," Daryl shivered.

"Think ya might've been out there a little too long. Here, le's get ya outta those clothes," he said, moving closer. He dropped the blankets on the bed and helped Daryl out of his wet shirt. They were not prepared for snow. 

"Yer lips are b-blue t-t-too," the hunter muttered.

"Couldn't stay warm in that drafty tower last night. Wind was blowin' too much." 

He laid out the blankets while Daryl took off his pants and pulled on a pair of sweats. Rick motioned to the bed and held the covers up for Daryl to slide under, his body shaking uncontrollably. They had to get his body temperature up.

"Move over," Rick said softly.

Daryl looked up at him with a blank stare. Either his brain was frozen, too, or he was trying to figure out why.

"We need ta get ya warm, Daryl," he explained. "Share body heat."

Daryl nodded stiffly and moved over so Rick could climb onto his small cot. They curled into each other, face to face, cold feet on cold feet, as Rick began to rub his back, the friction quickly warming cold, clammy skin. It took awhile, but eventually their lips returned from a purplish-blue to their natural soft pink. 

After Daryl stopped shivering, Rick thought about asking if he wanted him to leave. He was getting tired from being on watch and knew that if he stayed there much longer, in the safety of those arms, he was going to fall asleep. In the end, he figured that if Daryl wanted him gone, he'd be gone. 

His eyelids became heavy and he soon gave in to exhaustion. Outside, under a few inches of snow, it may have been the coldest day Georgia had ever seen, but inside, under a few inches of blankets, clinging tightly to Daryl, Rick was the warmest he'd ever been. 

And that just might've been more beautiful than the snow.


End file.
